(Chapter sixteen.)

Heat from the explosion warmed Sara's back to an uncomfortable degree. Sara pressed herself closer to the ground, coughing from the smoke. When she lifted her head, the smoke had not yet dissipated, but was instead mingling with Bespin's mists into an indistinguishable smog. Sara pushed herself to her knees, scanning around her. Sara couldn't see any x-wings but see could hear them in the distance, zooming around like vultures. Sara squinted into the sky, at a large, vaguely ship shaped mass moving steadily closer. The closer it got, the bigger it seemed. When it finally broke through the fog, Sara realized it was Kylo Ren's command shuttle. Sara had never been so glad to see that blasted ship.

By the time the craft had landed, all of the remaining Resistance pilots had fled. Why shouldn't they? They probably expected that they had killed her, maybe even Phasma.

Phasma, Sara murmured, dread coursing through her, shit.